


in the silence of the lamb

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherhood, Character Death, Coping, Deaf Character, Deaf Wooley (Star Wars), Family Loss, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Headcanon, Loss, Minor Canonical Character(s), No Incest, Original Character Death(s), Protective Siblings, Queer Gen, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Love, Supportive Obi-Wan Kenobi, gender is a FUCK, i haven't written in months i needed to get th juices FLOWIN, i'm sorry this is so long lsdjfsjdflsdjf, queer clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: An exploration of Wooley of the 212th.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Wooley, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Wooley, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) & Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Wooley & 99 (Star Wars), Wooley & Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	in the silence of the lamb

Bantha Squad pack up their bunks alongside Domino Squad, and excitement buzzes in the air. Ten freshly-graduated clones, shiny and new. Fives complains about Domino's assignment ("The Rishi Moon outpost? When has anything ever happened there? We won't even _see_ clankers until the war's already over!") and Echo smacks him on the back of the head.

"What about you lot?" Cutup asks Thread. "Where're you headed?"

"We've been assigned to the 212th battalion," Thread responds. Their hands are steady and their voice is level, but their stomach is doing somersaults.

"Hang on, _the_ 212th?" Hevy picks up their datapad from where they left it on the bench beside Needle. "Holy hells. This says you're gonna be in Ghost Company, under Commander Cody himself."

"I'm aware." Thread snatches their pad away. "Thank you."

"Well that's just not fair," Fives mutters. "How come we have to get stuck on Rishi while you get to be out in the field?"

"Trust me, I'd rather _we_ be on Rishi," Needle says as she finishes stitching up the gash Cotton's arm. "These di'kute get themselves into enough trouble in _training_."

"Yeah, but you're gonna be the most experienced medic they've ever seen," Wooley teases. "So you're welcome."

"I highly doubt that, Wool'ika. Helix is one of the longest-serving medics in the GAR. No way am I more experienced than him from fixing up you and Cotton's scrapes."

"I don't think it counts as a scrape if you need stitches," Cotton retorts, rolling his shoulder.

"You're gonna need more if you pop those," Needle warns. She slaps a bactapatch on him and packs up her kit.

"I know, I know. I've only done it three times."

"Four. And Wooley's done it twice, Glue three times, and Thread only once, which is why they're my favorite."

"I thought I was your favorite," Wooley says with a pout.

"I meant favorite patient. Thread actually listens and follows instructions."

"I lead by example."

* * *

Bantha Squad fights together, side by side. They always have. They always will. That's how batches are meant to be. An unspoken oath to one another that none will be left behind.

And yet, that is what happens to Cotton.

In their lineup, Cotton had always stood shoulder to shoulder with Wooley and Glue. In his final moments he stands alone, reaching fruitlessly for Wooley's hand, until a red bolt hits him squarely in the back and he falls to the ground. Wooley nearly loses his grip on the side of the LAAT and falls to his own death, but Glue holds him back. Thread pulls him into their arms and holds him securely against their chest.

"I know," they whisper shakily. "I know."

He's handed off to Needle when the General asks for Thread's report. There's a certain look on his face as he takes in the way their trembling chin. If anything is said, it's between the two of them alone.

* * *

Thread begins to fray, after that. They're less certain of the orders they receive. The ones they give deteriorate, making less sense as the weeks drag on. By the time they reach Christophsis, Needle is assigned as their escort back to Kamino.

"Come back safe," Wooley says to his sibling.

"Good soldiers . . . Be a good soldier . . . "

Needle tries to smile at him. "They'll be okay," she says, but there's worry in her eyes. She ruffles Wooley's hair. "Glue, take care of him, yeah?"

Glue nods. They hold Wooley close.

* * *

By the Liberation of Ryloth, Needle and Thread still haven't returned.

"I miss them," Wooley confesses late one night, curled against Glue's side after a hard-fought battle. Both of them are still caked in dust and dirt.

"I know," Glue says. They rest their cheek in Wooley's curls. "I'm sure they miss you too."

"If they're still alive."

"The Kaminoans don't decommission troopers anymore, you know that. General Ti makes sure of it."

Wooley is too tired to argue. He's too tired to fight the sob that chokes him.

"I miss Cotton."

Glue lets out a long, shaky sigh. "Me too, vod'ika."

* * *

Wooley clings to Glue. He's always stuck closely with his batch whenever he could, but now, with three of his four siblings gone, he refuses to allow them out of his sight. 

Which is what makes it so hard when they're shouting for him to run.

His feet turn to lead. His stomach twists, high and tight against his diaphragm, and his head pounds. It doesn't feel real. 

"GO, WOOLEY, GO!"

He stumbles as he tries to run. Commander Cody is a few hundred yards away, instructing him over his comm to run like hell; shit's about to blow.

He doesn't know how long he's on the ground. His head is spinning, ringing, his heart is racing, someone is grabbing his arm and tossing him over their shoulder-

It doesn't feel real.

None of it feels real.

Something is dripping down the sides of his head, down his jaw, down his neck, seeping into his blacks and collecting near his chin. It's streaking across his cheekbones as his head rattles in his helmet.

The General (the _General_ ; he's almost starstruck) lays him down in the medical tent and rushes off to ensure the safety of the rest of the troops. Someone pulls his helmet off. His ears are ringing.

"Glue," he mutters. "Glue." He knows his speech is slurred; his tongue feels foreign in his mouth. "Glue."

Helix is talking to him, but all he can hear is ringing, ringing, ringing. It hurts. He brings his hands up to cover his ears, but Helix pulls them away.

"Make it stop," he sobs. "Make it _stop_."

He can't hear Helix's response. His blacks are cut away from his arm and a drip is put in the crook of his elbow.

None of it feels real.

* * *

Wooley wakes up again in the medbay of the Negotiator. It's dark, and the ringing hasn't stopped. His head is too heavy to lift and feels like it's had stuffing shoved into it. He closes his eyes and can't keep himself from crying.

Someone puts a hand on his. They're gently petting his hair to calm him down. Something sounds distant; too far away and foggy to make out. He opens one eye to Helix giving him a soft smile. He pulls out a datapad and writes something down.

_How do you feel?_

Wooley shakes his head. "Bad," he chokes. He can't hear himself over the ringing.

Helix nods. Wooley can see his mouth move, but the ringing is overpowering. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"No," he moans. "No. Can't. Please."

The hand returns to his hair, coaxing him to open his eyes again. There's a new question on the datapad.

_Can you hear me?_

Wooley shakes his head again.

"Where's Glue?" He asks. "Want Glue."

The look on Helix's face tells him everything he needs to know.

* * *

The General checks in on Wooley often, apparently, though he doesn't know until he's been up consistently for three days. He waves as he enters.

"Sir." Wooley sits up a bit straighter and salutes. He regrets it immediately, as blood rushes from his brain and leaves him dizzy.

The General puts a gentle hand on Wooley's knee. There's a smile on his face as he shakes his head. Wooley can tell he's laughing, but not in a meanspirited way. It's the same sort of laugh as when they were introduced, and the General told him he saw the resemblance between the trooper before him and raw wool. It's reassuring as he leans back against his pillow with a somewhat sheepish look. It takes him a moment to catch his breath; a moment the General uses to write something down on his datapad.

 _I found something I thought might interest you_ , the General explains. He waits for Wooley to indicate that he's read it before switching over to a Sign Language book he has saved.

"For me?" Wooley asks.

The General nods. He quickly forwards the file to Wooley's pad along with a message.

_I've known Basic Sign Language for a number of years now. There are a few notes in there, as I've mixed in some of the pre-existing military and ARC hand signals that have become rather widespread._  
_Your siblings have expressed that they want to talk to you, and this is the best solution I can come up with. I've been working with the rest of the troops to teach them. :)_

Wooley flips through it for a while before looking up. He brings his hand to his chin.

'Thank you,' he signs, then glances down again. "This is . . ."

The General puts his hands over Wooley's for a moment to get his attention. 'You're welcome.' He sits on the edge of the cot. 

_You'll need to spend some time on Kamino,_ he writes. _Commander Cody and I have gotten permission to get you cochlear implants so that you can continue to be part of the 212th._

Wooley begins to shake when he reads that. Kamino. Needle and Thread never came back. He feels like he's going to be sick. The General rubs his upper arm soothingly, trying to calm him down.

_You don't have to come back. If you want to stay there, you can stay._

He shakes his head furiously. "Don't wanna go," he mutters. "Please. Let me stay. Don't send me there."

The General looks at him carefully. There's something like pity on his face.

 _You need to go in for more meticulous testing and surgery_ , he writes. _You'll be back with the 212th before you know it. No one will hurt you._

Wooley chokes when he reads that. He grabs, petulant and unprofessional, at the General's sleeve, and pulls him in close. Thankfully the touch is reciprocated and strong arms wrap around him. He can't make sense of the General's voice, but the vibration is soothing.

They sit like that for a while; Wooley clinging to his superior officer like a child to his mother. "'M sorry, sir," he murmurs as he pulls away slowly, red-faced with shame. "That was- um. Yeah." He sniffles.

The General reaches for a box of tissues and hands them off, shaking his head and speaking softly. He returns Wooley's attention to the holopad, emphasizing _no one will hurt you._ A small tilt of his head and a raise of his brow asks for confirmation, and Wooley gives it, nodding as he gathers himself.

"Thank you, Sir," he manages. At first his smile is forced, but when the General returns it, it falls naturally onto his lips.

* * *

'How'd it feel?' 99 asks. 

'Weird,' Wooley answers. 'Like a helmet, but only on that part of my head.'

'Really?' 99 makes an odd sort of face. 'What about the sound?'

'Even weirder! Everything was so flat and robotic and-' Wooley bites his lip, moving his hands slightly and staring at them. 'W-A-R-B-L-E.' He shrugs. 'Said it'd get better as I got used to it.'

'Fair enough.' 99 nods. 'Was it just one?'

'No, it was both. But I still have to relearn spatial awareness before I can go back in the field.' He deflates slightly. 'I miss them.'

'I know.' 99 hesitates for a moment, stopping in place as another maintenance clone waves at him. 'Wooley, this is W-A-X. Sister.'

Wooley's heart skips a beat. He can see a sewing needle tattooed on Wax's collarbone under her uniform.

"Needle," Wooley whispers. No. No, it can't- _no_. Absolutely not. No. 

He runs down the hall to the medbay and doesn't look back.

* * *

Patchwork finds him in a storage closet, hidden behind a cabinet of saline bags, but it's 99 who sits beside him on the floor.

'That was Needle.' Wooley's hands are shaking. 'I was there when she got that tattoo. I know it was her.'

'It was,' 99 confirms. 

'Why didn't she ever come back?'

99 sighs. 'She dug too deep into something the Kaminoans don't want us knowing about,' he explains. 'They sent her to reconditioning and reassigned her to maintenance.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I-' Another sigh. 99 runs a hand over his head. 'I didn't want to upset you more than you already were. It was never the right time.' He puts one hand on Wooley's shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'

Wooley looks down at the floor. 'Glue and I thought she was dead,' he signs. His head snaps up. 'What about-?'

'Thread really is gone,' 99 interrupts. 'They had a brain tumor.'

Wooley's heart rises in his throat. He hugs his knees.

'I'm sorry, Wooley.' 99 pulls his little brother into a hug.

" . . . I know," Wooley mutters into his shoulder. "I know."

* * *

It takes several months before Wooley is cleared for combat once again, and the 212th welcomes him back with open arms.

"How are you feeling?" The General asks him.

"Better," he answers. "Now that I'm back home."

Commander Cody tousles his hair. "And we're glad to have you back," he teases. "Missed our baby boy."

Wooley lets out an indignant noise and swats his big brother away. "You're a dick."

"And you have a small one."

"Sounds like someone's projecting."

A squad of shinies exchanges looks as they board, and Wooley snorts as Cody assumes a proper, respectable stance.

* * *

Umbara is dark and hellish, and Ghost Company is split into groups. Wooley sticks close to Lieutenant Waxer as instructed.

"General Krell said the Umbaran forces might disguise themselves in clone armor to trick us," Waxer reminds them. "Be on alert."

"On our ten," Lob says. "I can hear them. In the trees. Probably planning an attack."

"Good work. Fire!"

Mortars whistle overhead. Everything becomes a mess of blaster fire and shouting.

"We've got 'em. Advance!"

Wooley does as he's told. Something hot and hard and sharp pierces his shoulder, then another hits his chest, and his blaster falls from his hand.

 _"THEY'RE CLONES!"_ Someone shouts. It sounds farther away than it should. He falls back against the ground and groans, tears in his eyes.

 _"Everyone, stop firing! Cease fire!"_

Everything feels heavy. He's scared.

_"They're not Umbarans; they're clones!"_

Wooley stares up at the starless sky and he's _terrified_ of what comes next.

_"Look! We're clones. We're all clones!"_

A brother from the 501st, Juice, kneels down and pulls Wooley's helmet off. His horror is clear in the way his hands shake. Wooley grasps desperately at his wrists, trying to keep him close.

"S'okay," he slurs, blood on his lips. "S'okay." He forces a laugh, choking on crimson in the darkness.

He can't hear what Juice is saying. 

He's tired.


End file.
